Feed her solids, she will sleep better.
October 29, 2018
The Curse of the Fatherless Cycle:
January 9, 2019

Tragedy at a young age

I truly believe that at least once in one’s life we go through something that changes our outlook on life, whether its the loss of a loved one, or the birth of one. In my case, it was both. In both situations I struggled identifying the person looking back at me in the mirror. I lost my father at the age of 14, then two years later, I lost my mother. The person that looked back at me in the mirror was a broken little girl that would remain broken throughout her schooling and early working years. That young girl struggled understanding what she did to deserve that amount of pain and heartache. That young girl struggled to see the very purpose she drew birth everyday. I did not like the girl I had become because she was hurt and struggled seeing the good in people and life. 
From the age of 16, I was ridden by guilt whenever i even thought of celebrating my birthday. My mother passed away on the 4th of March and we buried her on the 8th, and 3 days later I was turning 16. I was so consumed by guilt that even if I did celebrate my birthday, it would be celebrated with sadness and tears. 
Losing a parent creates a level of pain that I would not wish on even my worst enemy. I found myself in the most darkest of places, especially after my mother. This is not because losing my father did not break my heart. It is because my mother remained to console me, and the bottom line was that I still had a parent, until I didn’t. I became overwhelmed by anxiety and depression that led to numerous suicide attempts. Death was my only exit. Light did not exist at the end of this tunnel, until it did. What was my light? Motherhood. 
Only 10 years after the death of my daughter would I be free of this guilt. I would be freed from resentment and no longer had the time to prolong the mourning of my parents. Why? I was now a parent. 
On the 25th of October 2017, I gave birth to Tshimoloho Imani Motsiri. Tshimiloho means Genesis, the beginning, and this would the beginning of my life. A life filled with nothing but purpose. When I found out about my pregnancy I was literally shook. Where am I even going to start raising a child when I am still trying to figure out what my purpose in this life is. What I did not fathom was that my daughter was God’s way of making me realize that very purpose. 
For the fist time since the passing of both my parents, I understood that both of them would have wanted me to live free of this guilt and resentment. I got it now. This is was my newly found truth. Becoming a mother too Tshimoloho helped me conquer my Everest. 
My Everest was understanding what this all meant. Why is a child birthed to only be parentless at 16. Then I became a mom and understood that as much as I want to, I will not be around forever. The last thing I would want for my children is for them to stop living because I have. 
I look in the mirror now and I am beyond proud of the woman my daughter has made me and the mother I continue to become. Now I thoroughly comprehend that there truly is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens. There is a time to be born and a time to die. There is a time to weep and a time to laugh.  
I slowly approached my light at the end of the tunnel and I continue to bask in it. 
This article was featured in the 5th edition of Ayana Magazine.

Written by: Karabo Motsiri

Edited by: Thando Bella Khoza

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